


See you at 6

by crowleyswing



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, Love, M/M, They are both soft idiots your honor, family rejection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 22:51:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowleyswing/pseuds/crowleyswing
Summary: Soulmate AU in which you get to experience certain impactful moments of your soulmate’s life (present, past or future) through your dreams.





	See you at 6

** Part I – The Beginning **

** _ Aziraphale’s _ ** ** _ POV _ **

It’s been just yet another painfully slow, agonizing day. My life is a never-ending cycle of waking up, showering, eating, tending to the bookshop, sleeping, rinse and repeat — _over and over and over again_ — the only ever mildly interesting part of the day being embarrassed middle aged folks pretending they aren’t ashamed to be buying poorly written erotic novels from a teenager. This isn’t a bloody church, just grab your smut and go, for heaven’s sake! I’m in no position to judge, anyway. To be frank with you, I’ve picked up a couple of those myself. I’ll do just about anything to pass the time on a rainy day, when the bell hanging over the door refuses to ring.

As I was saying, today has been another painfully slow, agonizing day… _Except _I just turned 18. Tonight, when (or _if_) I shut my eyes and drift off to sleep, I’ll be able to gaze into someone else’s very essence, feel what they have felt and maybe, just maybe, if I’m lucky enough, I’ll see a name, an address, a face (_oh please god let it be a face) _and finally let out a deep sigh of relief as my deepest fear begins to dim — one that whispers lies into my ears when I dare hope of a brighter future — the fear of eternal loneliness.

All of that built up anxiety could be gone by next morning. All I have to do now is lay back, relax, and let myself be swept into somebody else’s world for a little bit. That shouldn’t be terribly hard, right? Wrong! I was a fool to think I could get out of my thoughts on the most important night of my life so far. How am I supposed to win against my own mind?

Three hours have gone by and I’m still unbearably awake.

I’ve drank so many cups of cocoa that my bladder and kidneys are unionizing against my rule over this body.

_ thinking _ _ pacing sweating grunting _

_ fuck _ _ fuck fuck fuck just close your eyes for a fucking second _

_ it’s _ _ too hot _

_ i’m _ _ shivering _

_ how _ _ do i knock myself out painlessly without any health hazard _

_ shut _ _ up shut up shut up _

_ god _ _ just SLEEP _

No covers. Pillow turned on the cold side. No distractions. This is it, the moment of truth. After another excruciating hour, I manage to quiet my uneasy mind. At first, I slip into a dark, silent slumber. Just staring at nothing, feeling time stretching until I have no idea of how long I’ve been like this, feeling my heartbeat slowing down, scattering my thoughts along the pitch black night.

Suddenly, I jolt awake, a million colors filling my vision, harsh noise viciously attacking my fuzzy eardrums. As the sounds become clearer, I find myself witnessing a fight, assertive hands waving and spit flying straight in my direction. It quickly dawns on me that perhaps I’m not awake at all, but rather experiencing a repressed memory that doesn’t belong to me. I don’t have a clue what triggered this situation. _Am I late to this or do I just not get to have context? What a load of b-_ A harsh shove interrupts my thoughts, and the sudden physical pain catches me by surprise. Golly, I didn’t think the visions would be this realistic. Without my command, I feel my legs begin to run, taking me outside and far, far away, my vision blurring with unshed tears, until I can’t see anything at all and the tie with the dream world is severed. This time, I actually open my eyes and

_ can’t _ _ breathe can’t breathe can’t _breathe

I gasp audibly, desperately trying to fill my lungs. _What_ _in god’s name was that?_ I shut my eyes again in an attempt to focus on my breathing and slow down my heartbeat. Although I’m now grounded to reality and my body is my own again, the raw emotions of my soulmate seem to cling to me for a few more moments still: Anger. Revolt. An unexpected sense of freedom.

In the midst of all the yelling and commotion, I had managed to catch a few unpleasant words that painted a sad picture. A particular sentence uttered by the angry woman got stuck in my mind. “_Raphael, you are not my son, you are a serpent sent to poison this family and I will not have it._”

I had a feeling I might get a boy. Maybe so did he. Given what I witnessed, it doesn’t take a lot of reflection to understand the fight at hand may have resulted from his family not accepting their son. Remembering the way he had felt rejected, I feel my chest tighten, but something tells me pity would be the last thing he would want me to feel for him. There’s no point dwelling on it now.

_ Raphael _. I let his name fall from my lips over and over, testing it, hoping to revive my memory. Do I know a Raphael?

** _ Crowley’s POV _ **

To be honest, I don’t remember much about the first time I saw the world through my soulmate’s eyes, given I was piss drunk and passed out on a couch. All I remember was feeling dreadfully lost, confused, empty afterwards. But above all, I had felt utterly alone. Which means _he_ had felt utterly alone. He can’t have been much older than ten or eleven, given his height and the sound of the muffled sobs that have haunted me ever since. I figured my dream had reached into his darkest memories and taken a peek at the death of a loved one. I woke up to a terrible hangover and an even worse heartache. At first it felt wrong, invasive even; however, I subconsciously found myself wishing I hadn’t drank that night, that I had paid attention to his heart-wrenching story when it called out to me.

The idea of a soulmate, of someone else breaching my brain and hijacking my senses had terrified me. That is until about a week later, when I awoke to a warm, tingly sensation running through my entire body. This time, my dreams had taken me to a fancy looking restaurant and I sat in front of a round table. The lighting was intense and my thoughts were fuzzy and bubbly from the effects of the champagne I held in my hand. Only soft laughter filled my ears; I didn’t catch a snippet of conversation, but that wasn’t essential to the moment. The only thing that mattered was how I had felt (well, how _he_ had felt). And just like that, when I woke up, I knew he had shown me a completely new sensation: pure, bold and unabashed _love_. And his love is not something I would ever want to run away or hide from.

From then on, I patiently waited for more visions. Well… maybe not patiently. I might be slowly descending into madness, really.

I haven’t been in his head for weeks. Seemingly endless weeks. Which is why I didn’t expect it when it happened again tonight. After the initial darkness, my senses were overwhelmed by the sound of rain and the smell of the wet pavement outside. My vision never fully cleared up, a constant flow of choked up tears staining my cheeks. As I tried to pay attention to what was being said, I was struck by a head splitting headache. _I feel like fucking shit, I‘d rather be run over by a bloody bus. _I can tell he’s grieving once again. His hands were rubbing at his eyes, eyeballs rolling back in an attempt to keep the tears from escaping, and he was pacing back and forth on the creaky hardwood floor of what resembled a library. _Fuckin__ hell, he must only be a teen. How is it fucking fair for him to be suffering this much already? _He was in indescribable pain, pain like I’d never felt before_. Uh, suppose the advantage of leaving your family is not having to watch them leave _you.

I watched through his own eyes as he left what I now realize was actually a familiar bookshop, locked the door and headed to a funeral. It was depressing for several reasons, but mostly because of how small the crowd around the coffin was, and how early everyone left, blaming the rain as an excuse. After they were all gone, the boy walked slowly but surely towards another grave. There were two names on the headstone.

** _ Aziraphale’s _ ** ** _ POV _ **

Today has been brutally exhausting, but my life is so dull and devoid of feeling that I begin to welcome the ache in my muscles. I started reorganizing some shelves and could not bring myself to stop until it was all perfectly neat (to the detriment of my fragile self), so now I’m lounging on the couch and the last thing I want to do is to get up only to lounge elsewhere. I’ll just stay here; this is a perfectly fine couch after all. As I’m sprawled all over the comfy cushions, glancing vaguely in the direction of the window, I spot someone outside, evidently gawking at the inside of the shop. _Whatever could somebody want this time of the night? _Upon squinting at the shadowy figure and deciding they don’t look dangerous, I walk up to the door and open it briskly, putting on a shy smile as to not appear hostile.

“Ahem. You uhm… do you need help with something?” I blurt out, a little too agitated “We are closed.”

I hear them mutter a string of lewd curses under their breath as my presence is noted. I turn my head slightly to the side, raising a questioning eyebrow and trying to capture the mystery man’s features as shock settles into them (_christ__ is this someone from school?). _Forcing his wide eyes back to normal and mimicking a relaxed pose, the boy clears his throat and nervously droops his head down, bringing an awkward hand to the back of his neck. “I uh- “ he starts, before averting his eyes to the other side of the street. “Gotta go.” And just like that, he speed walks away from the bookshop, leaving me standing there like a confused puppy.

I roll my eyes and go back inside, slouching back down on the couch and closing my eyes, not even bothering to change. It’s not long before sleep takes over my worn out body.

** _ Crowley’s POV _ **

_ holy fucking shit i can’t believe i just did that i can’t fuc\- WHAT WAS THAT What The Bloody Hell Was That shit shit shit shit was that him? fuckin hell okay breathe _

My hands are shaky and clammy and my heart is beating at a thousand miles per hour. I recognized the bookshop from the last memory I was shown and decided to show up there late at night to check it out, _like a bloody idiot! _And now I made the worst possible impression in the history of poor impressions. _Why was he spending the night at the bookshop anyway? Who the fuck does that?_ The answer is bloody nerds. My soulmate is a quirky shy nerd and I’m the wanker who is head over heels for it. Can’t believe my first move was ominously standing outside his window and then _running away_.

At least I know we’ll figure our shit out eventually. After all, I was (or rather, will be) the one sitting by his side at that fancy restaurant, making him carelessly giggle and being the target of his affection. But oh, nerd, how I wish you would have just fucking slept at home tonight.

** _ Aziraphale’s _ ** ** _ POV _ **

Being transported to yet another of my other half’s memories was a pleasant surprise. The weary ache lifted from my bones as I embodied a taller, slimmer figure with outbursts of excitement running through his veins. It takes me a couple seconds to internalize the environment I was sucked into. I’m surrounded by colorful garments, hanging over clothing racks. I feel my hand reach out and pull out something, taking a moment to scrutinize it before throwing it over my arm and walking into a fit- _a fitting room? blimey this is incredibly inappropriate how can i\- this isn’t right! _But it turns out to be less awkward than I imagined, my eyes only catching quick glares of my legs as pants are carelessly thrown on the ground and his choice of clothing slides up and around my waist. In a flash, my gaze is directed to a mirror in front of me. I can feel some exhilaration bubbling up inside my chest as I, or him, or we examine the tight black leather skirt, hands resting over his hips, body turning slightly to the side to check out the fit on the bum as well. I feel a nervous but electrified smile take over my (borrowed) features. Before I have any time to think, I’m already looking straight ahead, right at his features staring back at me in the mirror, a wide smirk still plastered over his face. The last thing I see before I settle back into my own body is a little nod of approval.

My breath is still caught in my throat as I try to process what I just witnessed — the face of the boy to whom my heart is destined. His mildly frenzied smile, his pale freckles, his slim and sharp nose, his tousled red hair, _him_. _Him_.

_ I **do** know him. _ It takes me a while to connect his face to last night’s events, but it all starts to click alarmingly fast afterwards. _This can’t be a coincidence. He has to know. _Last night wasn’t the first time I saw him, either. After giving it a little bit of thought, I’m certain I had seen him walking the corridors of Hill Eaven School, although if I remember correctly, his hair had been dark as coal. Crowley, the infamous mysterious boy who disappeared. Despite not being your typical bad boy at all, Crowley was expelled from H. Eaven, most likely due to bad influences. But I didn’t see a trace of malevolence in his warm eyes.

My train of thought goes off the rails, completely out of my control. _What could he have seen that led him here? did he recognize me and ask around? did he see my face? I wonder if i’m a disappointm\- christ could he possibly have seen me bare? oh shut up, you, no way you were stark naked in any important moment of your life. or was i? fuck, he can see the future too oooh, curse you _

He was from my year, but I don’t know his birthday. He could be seeing snippets of my life for months now! And he ran away from me. That can’t be good.

** _ Crowley’s POV _ **

I’ve been building up some courage to go back to the bookshop to talk to him all day, but I can’t just barge in and announce that I’m his soulmate. I don’t even know if he recognized me! He might not even be 18 yet. There are many different ways that conversation could go, and I’m not sure I’m ready for any of them. But doing nothing is not an option.

I settle on writing him a letter and sliding it under his door in the early morning, before he comes to work (_unless the mad lad sleeps at the fucking shop. again._) I’m not well versed when it comes to this — it’s not like there’s any instructions manual on how to approach your promised one without making a fool of yourself. But fuck it, I can’t wait any longer.

I let out an exasperated sigh and begin the journey of trying to find the perfect words. Dear… _dear what? i don’t know the bloke’s name. deaaaar… soulmate? isn’t that a bit too intimate? bullocks alright to hell with the bloody greeting. _I keep it simple and straight forward.

_ Meet me at St James's park on Sunday. 6 o'clock. _

_ ** Your soulmate, Crowley ** _

_ Eh, should do the job _. I fold it and put it on the nightstand.

When I finally shut eye that night, I slip into a dreamless state, no more tragedies haunting my sleep.

** _ Aziraphale’s _ ** ** _ POV _ **

Today is the day I will meet Crowley in the park. As I’m closing up shop a little earlier to make it there by 6, I can’t stop imagining how our first real interaction will play out. In fact, I haven’t been able to think about anything else at all besides his freckled face and toothy grin ever since I laid eyes on that letter. I’m relieved he wants to meet with me after all, but I can’t help being extremely nervous about this encounter.

I arrive at the park and decide to sit on a bench, anxiously looking around every once in a while, keeping my eyes peeled for the red haired boy. _Maybe he should have been a teensy bit more specific about the meeting spot. _

Not long after, I spot him walking slowly along the lake shore, admiring the ducks. After a couple more steps he turns his head to peruse his surroundings and _fuck fuck fuck he’s looking this way he’s just… looking straight at me. do i wait here or should i walk over to him? _There’s a brief awkward moment during which I start to prop my body up, quickly sitting back down when he responds by strolling my way with long but relaxed strides, arriving next to me in no time. He fiddles with his hands for a second and blurts out “Hi”, to which I immediately respond with a shy “Hello”. More awkwardness ensues. He sits by my side and reaches out with his hand, a silent invitation for me to take it in mine.

“I’m Crowley.”

I try not to shoot him a questioning look._ Why is he telling me this? i know who he bloody is! _But clearly he doesn’t know my name. _Right, right it makes perfect sense, i was invisible in school after all._ I reach out. Our hands meet and I shake lightly, swiftly retrieving my arm back into its tense position over my legs a little too quickly due to my irredeemable nervousness.

“Aziraphale.” 

Contact barely lasted a second, but I could swear, in that instant, time stopped and all the birds flying above our heads began to sing along to the same harmony. Had I not let go of his hand, we would forever remain frozen in that moment, staring into each other’s eyes, communicating our feelings through a brand new language all of our own, one that didn’t require any words.

_That’s an awful lot of rambling for such a simple gesture. get yourself together for fuck’s sake._

** _ Crowley’s POV _ **

“Aziraphale?  Well that’s certainly an interesting name, innit?” I cast him an amused look, a corner of my mouth rising slightly in a teasing manner “Got awfully strange old folks, do you?”

“I _did_, yes” He replies matter-of-factly.

_ Shit. of course. two names on the headstone… arGH you bloody IDIOT. _

He doesn’t seem to notice the way my expression falls nor my poor attempt at clearing the newly formed lump in my throat, proceeding without so much as a glance in my direction.

“Suppose they were quite odd. But I never got to know them very well, to be honest.”

I mumble out a low apology and he gives me a reassuring smile.

When I lock eyes with him, the air feels electric, charged with a million unsaid words. Through a simple exchange of looks, there’s a mutual understanding. We have both seen certain _things_ through each other’s eyes, but there is no room for any pity. Although my chest feels tight when I think about the loss I know he has felt, our connection needs to be about comfort, trust, assurance, not _pity. _Never pity.

He asks me how I found him and, as tenderly as I can manage, I report to him the grim memory that led me to recognize his bookshop.

“Ah” he lets out, opening and closing his mouth as if carefully considering his next words. “It was my uncle. He took me in after my parents passed.”

I nod slowly, encouraging him to continue the conversation, so that he could decide if we should change the subject or not. After a few silent seconds, his position shifts slightly and he clears his throat, getting ready to approach a rather sensitive subject:

“If I may ask, why do you go by Crowley?”

** _ Aziraphale’s _ ** ** _ POV _ **

When I posed the question, Crowley’s features took on a surprised and questioning look, and I felt so flustered and panicked out of fear of having gone too far that I quickly explained that I had heard his birth name in my dreams. His body relaxed. He crossed his right leg over the other and threw his arm over the back of the bench, making himself comfortable. I couldn’t help but stare, stealing a couple glances at his slim figure. _He’s ever so gracious with his long limbs and careless stance… god i hope i’m not blushing _

He began telling me his story — coming out, running away, finding a new home after crashing on friends’ couches, using a new name and experimenting with gender expression. Dread settled in my heart as he explained that the school didn’t approve of his clothing preferences, and worked towards his expulsion when he inevitably started questioning their policies. _Banished for asking questions.__ Thrown out for calling out immorality. _I don’t know where I managed to find courage within me, but I found myself searching for his hand and reassuringly squeezing it in mine. My eyes were becoming clouded, brimmed with tears, but his face held his signature ever glowing smile.

“It’s alright,” he whispered “I have all the answers I need now.”

I felt him squeeze back.

** Part II – The Middle **

** _ Aziraphale’s _ ** ** _ POV _ **

Our first kiss happened in the bookshop. We had only been meeting at the park thus far, but this time he asked to come in and see my world and I gladly welcomed him. We were sitting on the couch after I prepared him a cup of cocoa and I began reading him my favorite passages from a book nearby, reenacting them overdramatically for his amusement. Suddenly, he used one hand to force the book closed and the other to grab my face, swiftly smashing our lips together. My eyes remained closed for a couple seconds after we broke apart, and he leaned his forehead against mine, hand still holding me firmly, and whispered:

“You looked far too cute to resist.”

Now, it’s been a little over a year since Crowley and I have been together. I can’t believe how much he has changed my perspective of life. As it turns out, the monotony of my lifestyle, which I had always dreaded, isn’t anything close to a burden after all. The days are still slow, but my unnerving fear has dissipated ever since this boy walked into my life, and there is nothing agonizing about a slow day when your beloved stands by your side.

As time went by and we got closer, we began to perfectly understand our dynamic — I was the boy who always went by unnoticed, happily living my life as a nearly invisible creature to the outside world; and Crowley… my dear Crowley shone so bright he could blind you, never attempting to hide who he is but never really being perceived as his true self either. And when we collided, he made me shine from the inside out and I made him feel like he could strip himself of his tiresome persona. Around each other, we are just kids with our bare souls on display.

** _ Crowley’s POV _ **

_ My dearest, the past few years with you have been everything i could ever have asked for _ . But sometimes, when you allow yourself to get so used to something you start taking it for granted and forget that everything must come to an end eventually, you stop appreciating the little things as much.

We were lazily sprawled over the couch, limbs messily intertwined, and we began to drift off to sleep _(you were bloody right about the comfort of your couch_). So long after having met, the visions have become very few and far between, but I felt my consciousness slipping into his world once again, my senses being taken hostage.

A flurry of harsh emotions strikes my chest, almost like a colossal panic attack of sorts. This is a feeling he has lent me before, one I recognize all too well —_grief_. Like I said, everything comes to an end. Six thousand years wouldn’t be enough time spent together, but we have always known that, like all beautiful things, we are ephemeral. He stares at my picture over a dark casket _(Aah, i’ve aged well)_, letting himself just _feel_, completely unrestrained, while others give him pitiful glances that he does his best to ignore. _It’s a good thing i’m going first, angel, because surely i wouldn’t manage to keep myself this composed. _

I feel agitated when I return to reality, slightly shifting my body to allow my lungs to expand.

_Don’t you dare wake up right now, i’m trying to bloody enjoy the little things!_

He flutters his eyelids and scrunches his eyebrows. I immediately know that he’s about to ask.And even though I was never very good at hiding my emotions from Aziraphale, this time I won’t allow him to suspect a thing.

“What’s wrong?” He mumbles, still half asleep.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, angel.”

A happy sigh escapes his lips when I kiss his forehead and hold him a little tighter again, encouraging him to go back to sleep.

_ I may not have all the time in the world, angel. _ I take his hand and squeeze it. _But i have you right now. _

He squeezes back.

** Part III – The End **

** _ Aziraphale’s _ ** ** _ POV _ **

Losing your soulmate feels like a piece of yourself being severed, leaving you walking around in this world feeling incomplete. However, the connection between souls is never lost; this means that, once in a while, the other halves of the departed still get to remember their beloved through nightly visions.

I have been quite weak for a while, and I can feel that I will fade away soon (_so wherever you are, crowley, my dear - i won’t be long_). Before I close my eyes to sleep for what may be the last time, I take some time to appreciate the life I have lived, the life we built together. I doze off with a small smile on my face, having no more tears left to shed.

My deep slumber is interrupted by the sound of birds singing and a light breeze. My vision clears to reveal a familiar lake, full of ducks swimming about. My head turns and a boy sitting on a bench comes into frame. _ Oh, how young we were. _I feel my heartbeat rising as my borrowed legs take me closer to my teenaged self and we greet each other. When our hands touch, something in my chest constricts, and I know for certain that, in that instant, it had felt like time froze for him, too.

I awake, but maintain my teary eyes closed. _It’s time_. I reach out with my soul to find his, which I’m certain has been waiting for me at our final destination, where we shall reunite never to be separated again.

I shakily let out my last breath, a smile still adorning my worn out features.

_ I’ll see you at 6, my dear. _


End file.
